


they did the mash!

by singagainsoon



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Bad Dirty Talk, Bickering, Bottom Newt, Cis Character, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Hermann Gottlieb Fucks Like A Truck, M/M, Married Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Talking During Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singagainsoon/pseuds/singagainsoon
Summary: obligatory newt-wears-a-sexy-halloween-costume-and-hermann-has-to-rail-him-because-he-can't-help-himself ficlet!! tis the season!!





	they did the mash!

“God, just _fuck_ me- you’re so good, Herm, honey. So _big_ and- ah, yeah, I wanna feel you for a _week_ , just fuck me raw, Hermann.”

“I’m not much above average,” Hermann begins dryly, feeling his cheeks heat up, but Newton interrupts him with an affected shout.

“You’re _huge_ . Do you want me to call you ‘big guy’? Would you- _oh shit_ , would you like that, sweetheart? Hm?”

“I would think not.”

“Oh, you’re no fun, Hermann. How ‘bout ‘baby’? Or-”

Hermann snaps his hips up in place of another _No_ , his belly brushing Newton’s when he arches his back for a bit of leverage.

Newt whimpers plaintively and tightens his grip on the headboard; and Hermann distantly laments the unfortunate groan of the mattress protesting beneath their combined weight. It is fortunate that the neighbors aren’t home to hear the dull _thud_ of the headboard hitting the wall or they would likely be waking in the morning to a noise complaint filed with their landlord. It would not be the first time.

Newton rocks down against him hard, as though he can sense Hermann’s thoughts starting to wander. Hermann offers a swat of his hand against Newton’s ass cheek in wordless apology and punctuates it with a moan.

Newton’s thighs, swathed in the most garish striped stockings Hermann has ever had the displeasure to see and wet with a combination of lube and come, tremble where they are planted firmly on either side of Hermann’s hips. Everyone had been staring at those stockings, at Newton’s lovely legs in those stockings. It gives Hermann some deep, visceral satisfaction to press his fingertips into them. He thrusts upwards into Newt with a short grunt, knocking his glasses askew on his face.

“You ought to be ashamed of the things that come out of that pretty mouth of yours, darling,” Hermann says, digging the bitten edges of his fingernails into the soft, colorful skin that bunches in a little roll above the waistband of Newton’s outlandish tulle skirt. Newton looks like a mere shadow of the man he’d been at the beginning of the evening, his eyeliner smeared where his eyes had teared up while he was making a valiant attempt at deepthroating Hermann and his lipstick smudged across his mouth (and Hermann’s thighs, the skin above his dark thatch of pubic hair, the sensitives insides of his thigh).

Hermann wonders if the Halloween party they’d abandoned is still in full swing or if the guests have all trickled out.

Newton teases his hand along his inked chest and breathes an over-exaggerated sigh. There are faint, angry red lines across his tattoos where his long-discarded corset had dug into the softest parts of him. Hermann traces one with the blunt, rounded edge of his fingernail, and Newt grins stupidly.

“ _Oh_ , Herm, Hermann, babe, _yes_ \- You- _You_ should be ashamed of the mess you made of my costume,” Newt counters, bouncing vigorously in Hermann’s lap and tipping his head back. His lips part in a heavy exhale, a ghost of a moan barely audible over the slapping of flesh on flesh. “I wore it just for you, and that’s the- the thanks I get? Ripping my stockings- _oh,_ Jesus, dude- Getting come on my skirt. Fuckin’ gross, and you were _still_ hard after that. Just nasty.”

There is, however, no sting to a phrase that turns into a high-pitched whine at the end. Hermann lifts his hips to meet Newton with a grunt, and Newton clenches down hard around Hermann’s cock when he snaps his hips up. He ignores the dull ache that twangs from the pins in his hip to the tips of his socked toes in favor of the little sparks that crackle along his nerve endings, the tight, hot squeeze of Newton around him. Hermann grips his thigh hard enough to bruise and spots a run in Newt’s left stocking. Perhaps Newton has a point. Perhaps Hermann _had_ indeed gotten just the slightest bit carried away, but who really could blame him?

Hermann smooths his other hand along Newt’s side, up to the scars that sit raised and pink beneath his tattoos, over his chest and down the pudgy swell of his stomach. Newton shudders gratefully beneath his hand, rocks hard against the stiffness of Hermann’s length buried inside him. His freckles disappear under the red that colors his face.

“You can buy a- ah, a new pair of stockings, _liebling_ , if it means that much to you.”

“It’s too late,” Newton sighs with an affected air of finality, reaching between his spread thighs to rub at himself. His mouth goes slack, falling open in a wordless expression of pleasure that Hermann feels shooting down his crooked spine as though it were his own.

“Are you waiting for me to insist on _my_ buying you a new pair?”

“ _Maybe._ You shredded them, you fuckin’ _brute_.”

“Newton, my darling, my love, _please_ be quiet, sweet man. I did no such thing, though if you keep this up, I- _oh_.”

Hermann hears himself babbling, his voice dropping a strained, husky octave of its own volition. He knows himself, knows his limits, knows (and detests) that he loses any semblance of a filter when he gets close to orgasm, and hypothesizes that he will hardly last much longer. Neither will Newton, judging by the way he spasms tightly around Hermann, the way he’s wet enough to have slicked the insides of his thighs. Newton pulls his hand from between his thighs, fingers glistening in the low light of their bedroom, and sucks them into his mouth with an obscene little _slurp_.

A knot pulls itself tight in the pit of Hermann’s stomach beneath the twist of his belly button, hot and urgent like the sweet, painful tightness building in his balls. Newton lifts himself up off Hermann’s lap only to slam himself back down with a vigor that wrenches a moan from the both of them. Newt’s eyes fall closed, and he braces himself against Hermann’s chest with the palm of his unoccupied hand, his thick, short fingers splayed dangerously close to Hermann’s peaked pink nipple. Hermann thumbs at him idly, half-lidded eyes studying the way Newton’s back arches and his hips roll desperately, gracelessly into his hand. There is a brief moment where Newt gets ahead of himself and Hermann slips from his slick warmth and they both fumble, fussing and shaking with arousal, to push him back inside.

Newton straightens his spine and sinks back down onto Hermann, stilling to readjust before he sees fit to resume grinding low, muscles shifting as he opens his thighs wider. Hermann reaches an unsteady hand to give Newton something to rub his erect clit against and is rewarded with a pretty flutter of his dark eyelashes.

He wants, suddenly, with a hot and desperate longing, for Newton to kiss down the gangly length of his body, to nose at the protruding shape of his too-sharp ribs, to suck another bruise beside his navel, to slot his face into the crease where his leg meets his hip. Hermann’s thighs strain and flex, tight and sore to the point of pain that will surely wrack him in the morning; but he drags the flat of his thumb over Newton’s hard, throbbing clit, and then he is coming before he has the chance to rasp any sort of warning, clenching too tightly around Hermann and trembling above him, beneath the grip of Hermann’s long fingered hands and wide palms. Hermann’s name catches in Newt’s throat and dissolves into a high, wanton shriek when it hits the air.

“Newton, love, I-”

"You're gonna come?"

"Goodness-  _Yes_."

Newt quickens his pace, works his hips against Hermann through the force of his orgasm though Hermann is certain his writhing, squeezing body is on fire, overstimulated. His face pinches between the determined furrow of his eyebrows. Newton's callused thumb teases the stiff nub of Hermann's nipple. “I know, babe. C’mon, Herm, I’ve got you- _Yeah_ , yeah, there you go, that’s it. Good boy,” he mutters, tweaking Hermann’s nipple between the pinch of his thumb and index finger. Hermann arches up into the sharp sensation, into the praise, a needy groan vibrating below the bob of his adam’s apple. Newt clenches around his throbbing cock, his body still shaking with leftover sparks. Hermann grits his teeth.

Newton twists his nipple delicately, and pleasure bursts in Hermann’s stomach like a balloon. Hermann comes with a choked-off shout and a violent shudder that rolls through his body and crashes at his curling toes like a wave, a poorly articulated full body twitch that pulls him to arch away from the mattress; and he feels his face contort into something akin to a pained grimace. He lets his leg spasm once, twice, three times without bothering to fight it. He must look a horrible sight, but if Newton ever minds, Hermann cannot tell. He’s terribly good about it, Hermann thinks.

He hums above Hermann, low and pleased and almost like a purr. Newton grinds down into him as he rides out the electric, stinging aftershocks and leans forward to press their heaving chests together. Newton’s lips are velvet-soft and kiss-swollen against Hermann’s throat, his face, his gasping lips, the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear. He lavishes Hermann with messy, open-mouthed kisses until he has stopped twitching and starts to soften inside of him. Newt lifts himself shakily from Hermann’s lap, and Hermann steadies his husband with a gentle hand on his hip. Hermann slips out of him with a low groan, and Newton rolls off to collapse, heavy, at Hermann’s side.

Newton slots his small figure into Hermann’s angular skeleton, round and soft where Hermann is jagged and out of place. Hermann curls in on himself, on their combined shape, and reaches blindly for a blanket to tug over them. He watches the dramatic heaving of his chest slow as Newton’s heart calms alongside his own, watches the way Newton opens his mouth as though to say something but appears to think better of it. Newton rubs a vaguely sticky hand past the dip in Hermann's stomach, up his sternum and the skin stretched thin over it, over his pounding heart. Something in his touch soothes Hermann, a salve that cools the fire licking up his skin and torturing his bones.

He settles his head in the space between Hermann’s chin and the prominent line of his clavicle, his muscles flexing beneath tattoos and soft fat against Hermann’s body as he shifts, the stubble dotting his soft cheek scratching Hermann’s still-flushed skin like a bristly tickle.

Hermann drapes his arms around his husband and gives him a light squeeze, relishing in the natural warmth he radiates and the energy that rolls off of him in massive waves. He feels Newton’s grin stretch against his throat. Hermann can picture it without having to readjust himself to sneak a furtive glance - the way his mouth quirks up more on one side, the way his sore lips stretch over the glint of his sort-of-crooked front teeth.

“Happy Halloween?” Newton ventures, a hoarse rasp to his breathily innocent voice and a chuckle lingering in the much-loved corner of his mouth. Hermann laughs and presses a kiss to the top of his head. He nuzzles into his unruly hair, inhaling the distant scent of sweat and sex and something entirely _Newt_ in nature that he cannot ever find the words to describe, even now. 

“Happy Halloween, indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twitter @kaijubf !!!!


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